


How Sam Winchester Became a Companion

by TGP



Series: The Doctor That Said Candlejack's Name [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, I want a blue marble, Multiple Doctors - Freeform, Sam's bitch face is the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGP/pseuds/TGP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times Sam met the Doctor and the one time he followed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Or, How Sam Got Involved In A Time War No One Remembers

**Author's Note:**

> Compliant (in strange ways) to Supernatural season 5 and Doctor Who season 6 with possible spoilers.

When asked later, the Doctor will always say this isn’t his fault. And it really isn’t but it did _start_ with him. Well, another him. Him to the third power, multiplied by zero, trampled by at least four paradoxes and two broken timelines, having crossed the streams and spoken the name of Candlejack, to be exact. In any case, it is not _this_ Doctor’s fault.

(It isn’t _that_ Doctor’s fault either; he’s an entirely different issue. They all are.)

No one seems to understand. Then again, the Doctor is a little confused himself.

\----

The first time Sam Winchester meets the Doctor, it’s a dark night and he’s just managed to run away from home. He’s sitting in a motel room with a steaming pizza and a dog laying across his knees being warm and fluffy and he’s never been happier.

A harsh knocking at the door startles Sam enough that he almost panics, but John Winchester had raised his boy better than that. Even at this age, Sam’s got a pistol he stole from his dad’s bag in hand and he’s advancing on the door like a witch is behind it. He’d already checked to make sure the shaky door wouldn’t displace the salt line on the floor (it’s cut wrong and fits small in the frame by nearly an inch at the bottom and half that around the sides).

“Who is it?” he calls.

“The Doctor, and I do hope you’ll let me inside as it’s very…em… _misty_. I’ve never trusted mist. Nasty stuff sometimes.”

Sam doesn’t know what to think about this. “I didn’t call for a doctor.”

“That’s good, because I’m not, but I am entirely what you need.”

If his dad was there, Sam wouldn’t have been near the door at all. And his dad would already be getting ready to trash the joker. But Sam’s stubborn and while he knows the things that go bump in the night, he really, really wants to not be like his dad.

Sam opens the door and a man with a bowtie strolls right in like he owns the place. He doesn’t seem threatening, kind of sickly really, but Sam stays on guard anyway. The moment the man sees the pistol, he looks very uncomfortable.

“Should you be playing with that?”

“Not playing,” Sam says and he means it because he shoots as well as Dean does.

The man gives the gun another uneasy look. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Maybe.” Sam’s going to give him a chance but he can hear all the caution his dad has ever instilled in him and the man is _wrong wrong wrong_ but not in the ways that he should be afraid of. “What’s your name?”

“The Doctor. I’ve already told you; do keep up.”

He’s incredibly British, like on TV, and Sam thinks the way he talks is ridiculous. But as the Doctor starts rummaging around the motel room, looking at random, Sam can’t help asking, “Doctor _what?_ ”

“Time Lord. Wrong question, try again,” the man says absently as he’s staring up the sink faucet.

Sam starts to realize the guy might just be a crazy hobo. Bones sits at Sam’s side, head cocked as they watch the Doctor start going through the cabinets. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I know it’s here. Bells and whistles and a beautiful bauble of blue smiles and- _hello there!_ ”

When the Doctor drags out a blue marble from under the sink, Sam is both surprised and terribly disappointed. He had started hoping maybe this would be some great adventure but, instead, he gets a crazy man and a marble and he’s getting sick of this already.

“Maybe you should go,” Sam says and the Doctor waves at him dismissively as he examines the marble.

“Quiet, I have to concentrate. And stop thinking so loudly. You’ll destabilize it.”

“I- _what?_ ”

“It’s very delicate. Even the slightest- Oh. Oh dear.”

Sam doesn’t see a difference but suddenly the Doctor’s thin brows lift up near his hairline and he stares at the marble as if the secrets of the universe are held inside. Without another word, the Doctor swoops out as fast as he’d come inside. Sam stands at the door and glances at the TV before going back to following the Doctor’s retreating figure. He nearly goes after him but Bones whines softly and he doesn’t. Sam closes the door, digs into his pizza, and tries not to think about the strange man and his marble.

Which is a pity, really, because that’s when the trouble actually starts.

\-----

The second time Sam Winchester meets the Doctor, he doesn’t actually realize it. He’s loafing about at a local café, working on homework and killing time before class. Jessica’s working and he promised he’d stop dropping by every day because the other girls keep teasing her about how doting he is. Sam’s starting to think Jessica is _the one_. They’ve been dating a while and…

Well, he can’t really see his life without her. He thinks he might be able to build a better life at her side. It’s a great dream and he’s coveted it to himself because he’s terrified it’ll go away if he dares to let anyone know before he’s ready. The only one he’s told is his mother because gravestones don’t tend to spill secrets.

He picked out a ring last week but he hasn’t bought it yet.

Sam’s just gotten through the last transcripts of a mock trial he’s reviewing when a man runs headlong into the railing around the outdoor seating area and flips right over it. His feet go flying, knock the end of Sam’s table, and it’s only due to Sam’s reflexes that his laptop doesn’t crash to the ground. Sam sets his laptop safely onto another table and then helps the man up.

“You should look where you’re going,” he says.

The man doesn’t look like much, all posh dark clothes, jacket, and short shorn hair. Sam doesn’t quite know what to think about him but his instincts are pinging insistently _wrong wrong wrong_.

“Right then,” the man murmurs as he brushes dirt from his jacket. “Thanks, really, I’m in a terrible hurry-”

He pauses and looks very, very regretful. “You should try avoiding the color yellow, if you can.”

Sam barely has time to glance at the faded happy face on his t-shirt before the man climbs back over the railing and sets off at a dead run as if nothing had happened. Sam stares after him without a clue what to think of the encounter.

After a week, he’s forgotten it entirely.

\-----

The third time Sam Winchester meets the Doctor, he is in no mood for games. Dean has been dead for a month and Sam shot the last crossroad demon that dared come at his call. Now he’s sitting in a bar in Arkansas and wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now. Ruby’s been flitting in and out without any way to contact her and Sam isn’t sure if he wants or needs her or just doesn’t hate her enough to ice.

“Hello, can I take your picture?”

Sam does not want his picture taken. Especially not by a Brit in a suit with stupidly well spiked hair. He gives him a glare but the man doesn’t seem to care and is already hefting the oldest looking camera Sam has ever seen in use.

“Back off. I’m not in the mood,” Sam grouches.

“No, I wouldn’t guess you’d be, but it’ll only be a moment.”

“Look, pal, if you don’t back off-”

The flash blinds him. Sam blinks stars out of his eyes and starts rubbing them hard as he grits his teeth. That’s it. That is _it_. He doesn’t care anymore; he’s going to rip this idiot’s head off and-

When Sam is able to see, the man is gone but a piece of blank paper is left on the seat next to him. Sam picks it up, turns it one way or the other, and sees nothing. He glances around but no one seems to have noticed what just happened. Opening his wallet, Sam pays for the drinks and then tucks the paper behind a credit card on impulse. He doesn’t think about it after that.

\-----

The fourth time Sam Winchester meets the doctor, he’s being flayed alive. Not that he can really tell the difference between pain and not pain anymore. He isn’t even really sure who he is anymore. Sam Winchester is a ghost he sometimes remembers, but there’s no point in that because he is trapped trapped trapped like a rat in a tiny, stinking maze that only has one room and is full of knives and it’s all his own fault.

The only reason Sam knows that the Doctor is there is because the pain ceases for a little while and Lucifer stops laughing. He isn’t aware of words anymore and he doesn’t really hear anything so much as feel it.

Lucifer isn’t laughing and Michael’s essence burns like salt in a wound. Angry but not at him. Not…

There’s something cool and soft and wonderful enveloping him. Sam doesn’t understand, doesn’t have enough of himself to appreciate it. For a few wonderful, beautiful moments, he feels safe.

 _I’m so sorry_ , he feels and then the feeling is gone and Sam wonders if he ever really had it in the first place.

\-----

The fifth time Sam Winchester meets the Doctor, it’s in a space that is filled with white and Sam doesn’t understand what’s going on. He doesn’t remember what’s gone on. The last thing he can recall is flinging himself into the Cage. There’s nothing around him and he has no idea how long he’s been out. He doesn’t even remember waking up, really. Just falling and then suddenly… white.

Sam wonders if this is what the Cage feels like, but he can’t sense Lucifer or Michael or anything. He isn’t even really sure of the floor. Time feels strange and sluggish and fast and he doesn’t really understand it anymore.

“Oh.”

Sam stiffens and turns. There is a man standing before him in a well fitting suit. His brown hair spikes up in a stylish mess. The man draws out a pair of glasses and peers at him a moment.

“Huh.”

“What?” Sam asks because he doesn’t even know who the man is.

The man drags out a photograph from his pocket and studies it. “Very interesting. It _is_ you. That can’t be good.”

“What?” Sam starts towards him, wondering just what could bring the two of them around and there is the strangest sense that he knows this guy. Sam can’t think of why.

“ _This_ ,” the man says and then holds out a photograph. It’s definitely Sam, looking angry and bewildered, maybe even belligerent. Sam can’t think of when the photo might have been taken. “Funny thing, this. You see, it appeared inside the heart of my Tardis.”

“Your what-”

“Things don’t just _appear_ there. And they certainly don’t keep their shape. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re laughingly human, I might think something untoward.”

Sam is dumbfounded. The man continues to babble as if he’s not there, pointing at the picture or ranting about timey wimey stuff and Sam can’t figure out just what his deal is. He’s too spastic to be an angel, too nice to be a demon, and nothing has ever pinged him so much of _wrong wrong wrong_ in the way that doesn’t scare him.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

The man looks at him, blinking as if he’s just remembered Sam’s there. “I’m the Doctor.”

Even though he doesn’t remember the past times, this time Sam just holds out his hand.

“Sam,” he replies as the Doctor gives him a firm shake.

“Right then. Glad that’s over. Off we go.”

The Doctor turns the moment he lets go and starts into the white as if there’s something more there. Sam doesn’t have many choices. After a few moments, he starts after the Doctor.

He’s only kind of surprised when they step out into a steampunk dream.

This is the first time the Doctor meets Sam Winchester. At least, the one that didn't say Candlejack's name.


	2. The Time Sam Followed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, How the Doctor made friends with Sam Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't really mean to write this but. Uh. Yeah. 
> 
> Set inside the last part of last chapter, after the Doctor and Sam shake hands. This is how they got out of the white.

It’s the weaving lines that really tangle you up. At least, that’s what _that_ Doctor will tell you. _This_ Doctor thinks he’s full of it and should just go home. Then again, he’s been looking for home for a very long time.

\-----

“So what is this?” Sam asks after they’ve been walking in a sea of white for what feels like hours and minutes at the same time and it is _fascinating_ but at the same time mildly terrifying, at least for anyone that is not the Doctor (and sometimes him too) –

“It’s… Well, ah, the _nothing_.”

That’s the only way the Doctor can describe it. He’s been here for centuries already, but also just a few seconds, and the disparity between actual time, perceived time, and imagined time is both growing and shrinking with an alarming lack of uniformity. It’s not empty, really, but there is nothing here either physical or metaphysical and the only reason they’re standing solidly is because they think they should which is just brilliant, it really is –

“Wait, like “Neverending Story” nothing? Are you kidding me?”

Sam seems like an interesting fellow. (Not _that_ Doctor’s usual type, a bit on the rough side, but he’d do for now. _This_ Doctor has been getting just a tad lonely – not that he’ll admit it – and nothing brightens his day more than a new face. Er, well, most of the time anyway.)

(For a moment, he remembers seeing one of his other faces, one he doesn’t know yet, staring back at him from a mirror and yelling at him to _find the pieces_ just before being thrown into the nothing. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and while the physical sensation is intriguing, he doesn’t like it and he hopes it never happens again)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Doctor informs Sam primly and sticks his hands into his pockets as he continues examining the white space. The one thing that always stumps him about humans is their pop culture, most of which he’s ignored, and how they insist on referencing it like everyone knows when a lot of it has not, in fact, become universal even within their own species. It’s endearing but kind of distracting in the long run.

“Well, it’s… It’s a movie and this world falls apart under a force called the Nothing…” Sam sounds mildly embarrassed having to admit it but the Doctor finds the premise to be promising, if a little depressing. “And it turns out that it’s really just a lack of imagination…”

“Well, I can understand the dangers in that,” the Doctor muses. “This nothing is… well. _Nothing_. No time, no space… Just you and me. I think we’re in between time and space. Never seen it like this, so I can’t be sure.”

“You’ve been between… Why am I asking?” Sam gets an expression that is devastatingly human, all self-depreciation and amusement and wonder. The Doctor loves it. He spends an entire one second century studying it before Sam goes on. “Is there a way out? Because I kind of want to get home. My brother’s waiting on me.”

“Of course there’s a way out,” the Doctor scoffs. Humans, never trying hard enough. ( _That_ Doctor disagrees.) “I just haven’t found it yet.”

Sam mutters something under his breath but it sounds disparaging so the Doctor doesn’t really care. He fingers the marble in his pocket and drags it out to look. It fell when his other self sent the message through the mirror and he’s sure it’s important but he doesn’t know why. It doesn’t feel at all different than any number of marbles that have come before it. The marble is blue with twisted ribbons of white and darker blue. Nothing moves and it’s cool in his grasp but warms to skin temperature as he holds it. The Doctor finds it a little boring. He sticks it back in his pocket and then continues examining the space.

He wishes his sonic screwdriver had come through with him but it hasn’t. Actually, all he has are the clothes on his back. He’d picked up a trinket or two along the way, but they’re gone. He has the photograph of Sam and the marble. The Doctor drags out the photograph and turns it over. Scratchy writing can barely be made out. The photograph has seen better days. It’s creased and dirty and there are bits of it rubbed clean off. The writing, as far as the Doctor can read, simply says _don’t forget_. He isn’t sure if he’s not supposed to forget Sam or something about Sam or just the photograph itself. It’s a wonderful mystery.

When the Doctor looks up, Sam is giving him an odd look. It’s a curious mix of puzzlement and wariness.

“You’re not human, are you?” Sam asks and the Doctor is a little stunned because no one guesses until he does something fantastic and he’s a little put off, to be honest. He likes showing off and giving away the answer early just kills the excitement.

“No, no, I’m a Time Lord,” he replies with disappointment. “Very different but nearly the same, I’ve been told. Not sure how much I believe that.”

“Right.” Sam squints at him a bit. “I haven’t heard of that before. Some kind of minor Time deity?”

“I hope not. It sounds dreadfully boring.” The Doctor finds the idea a little disconcerting, even.

“…Right. Ah. Spirit. Temporal spirit?”

The Doctor frowns. That just doesn’t sound worth the trouble. “Time Lord. It’s very simple.”

“What, do you control time?” Sam certainly doesn’t seem convinced. “Turn it backwards? Redo “Groundhog Day”? I’ve seen that trick.”

He gets that reference and it’s not flattering and the Doctor isn’t sure he likes Sam after all. A little mulishly, he utters out the simplest explanation he can think of, “I _manage_ time.”

Sam is not impressed. The Doctor’s fingers curl a bit in his pockets. He fingers the marble, misses his screwdriver, and wishes he’d been stuck with anyone but Sam. The Doctor lets a few very nasty things pass over his mind before he simply turns and starts off again.

“Might be able to find another rip somewhere – that’s how you came in – but this can’t be good for the fabric of the universe – rather, which ever are connected to this lack of space here,” he babbles, mostly to himself because what does he care if Sam’s following any of this. “Seems to be a mess of nothing, but maybe it’s really a mess of _leftovers_ , that sounds about right. Feels about right. Here and there and yesterday and tomorrow…”

He goes on for a bit, not really paying attention to what he’s saying anymore and it takes him a while to realize that Sam is still following dutifully behind him. The Doctor pauses, glances at him and Sam blushes as if he’s done something wrong.

“Sorry,” Sam says, uneasy. He tucks his thumbs into his back pockets and glances off.

“No, no, it’s all right.” The Doctor isn’t quite sure what he’s apologizing for anyway.

“I was rude,” Sam presses.

“Well, em, work on that.”

They stare at each other a bit. The problem he’s noticed with humans is that as a group, the talking never stops and there’s always something to do and something to see and somewhere to go and he doesn’t have to really think about them in any individual basis. It’s alone that the Doctor has trouble. That’s when the individuality pops up and he has to get to know them singularly and he’s not really all that good at it. There’s a reason he’s been traveling solo all these years.

(Later on, _that_ Doctor will tell him he should have been choosing companions from the beginning. Traveling is so much more fun that way. _This_ Doctor will be wary of it after his experience with Sam Winchester. _That_ Doctor will assure him it’s worth it.)

Abruptly, Sam’s eyes snap wide as he stares at something over the Doctor’s shoulder. He turns and branded in huge red letters against the stark whiteness of the nothing is a word. It’s easily twice Sam’s height, if not taller, and there is a quality to it that seems hand drawn.

“Candle-” he starts reading and Sam grabs his shoulder.

“Don’t say his name.”

“Excuse me?”

Sam didn’t take his eyes off the word. He almost looks in shock. “It’s a joke. When you say his name, he comes and kidnaps you.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” the Doctor decides and then he grins because at least that’s _interesting!_ “Shall we see if it works?”

Sam doesn’t look as excited as he should. “As weird as everything else has been, I’d rather not risk it.”

The Doctor curbs his disappointments. He steps closer and marvels when he realizes the word is just standing in the middle of nothing space. There’s no depth to it at all and when he looks around the enormous “C”, he can’t see it from the back. The Doctor runs his fingers along the front of the letter and is intrigued that if feels like crayon. It looks it, as well, now that he’s close. How exciting.

“Um… Doctor? There’s a door in the “L”,” Sam calls and the two of them examine it. The door seems simple enough. It’s the same red as the letters but feels of metal and has a polished brass knob. Neither of them hears anything from the other side and without his screwdriver, there’s no telling what might be there.

“After you?” Sam suggests.

The Doctor grins. He grabs hold of the door and opens it. There’s darkness behind it but when he tests a foot, there’s solid ground.

“Inverse?” he mumbles and how _wonderful!_ This place is pulling all the stops and-

Abruptly, the Doctor is dragged off his feet and tumbles headlong into the darkness. He hears Sam shout after him, feels fingers clamp down on the back of his jacket, and then they’re falling

falling

falling

The Doctor wakes up. He blinks and jerks up to sit and is perfectly astounded to find himself in his Tardis. He lets out an exclamation of affectionate joy and scrambles to his feet so he can run his fingers over the controls. He’s so very comforted to be somewhere recognizable and he feels a familiar weight in his pocket that he can’t help but fish out. The Doctor grins and rolls the sonic screwdriver over his fingers.

There is a groan behind and the Doctor looks back. He’s not sure why he’s surprised to see Sam dragging himself off the floor. The human rubs his head as he glances around, taking it all in. There’s not any real wonder on his face but the Doctor assures himself it’s because he hasn’t seen the outside yet.

“Uh. So. This your place?” Sam asks.

“Welcome to the Tardis,” the Doctor replies and he grins. “Anytime you want to visit right at the touch of a button.”

“Time. Right. You’re a time traveler. Makes sense. This is your time machine. Okay.”

Sam is taking this exceptionally well for a human. It makes the Doctor very disappointed. At the same time, he has a strange hopefulness. Maybe this is just what he needed. Maybe this is why he was dragged into the nothing in the first place. He watches Sam examine the controls with a frown and can’t help being amused. And he can’t help giving a show.

The Doctor has to admit, Sam did very well in handling his first time jump. He only screeched a little. And by the end of the day, the Doctor has shown Sam a purple forest full of green and blue flowers, run away from robot head hunters, nearly gotten killed, and found the perfect hat. It’s a good day.

Sam’s only relevant question in all this is, “There are _aliens?!_ ”

Obviously.

\----

 _That_ Doctor has been a little bit busier. It takes a lot of energy to kill a universe and he’s quickly finding that even his notable resources are sorely tested by this task but there’s no one else he’s willing to risk because anyone who helps is going to die with him and it’s just a matter of time before that happens.

Time is the _most_ important matter, actually and _that_ Doctor is running out of it as he tries to save all there was, is, and will be.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the beginning.


End file.
